Gypsy Magic
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya have a strange encounter in a primeval Polish forest.


They'd finally stopped running, having gone deeper into the Białowieża Forest than they'd hoped to, but their pursuers had been relentless. Finally losing the armed men, the two fugitive U.N.C.L.E. agents sought to rest on the edge of a small clearing in the middle of the dark primevil forest.

Both hadn't fared well while in captivity, and for once Napoleon Solo had gotten the worst of it. He limped along, reluctantly hanging onto the Russian, though it was going against his grain to do so. He should be able to manage on his own, but his body just wasn't cooperating. Kuryakin wasn't as bad off as his partner but still, he wouldn't admit he was hurting.

He had to help Napoleon and that as they say was that.

There was many's the time they'd helped each other though a dicey situation, so much so that it had become an automatic thing, but even the energy for 'automatic' runs out.

Finally Napoleon's strength gave way and he whispered to be lowered to the ground.

"I can't take anymore...need to stop."

Though the stubborn Russian was wont to admit it; he was done in himself.

"Good, you were getting too heavy anyway. Napoleon I think you need to lose some weight," Kuryakin quipped as he flopped to the ground next to his partner.

"Very funny, though you might be right," he patted his gut. "If we get out of this one, maybe I'll start going to the gym a little more."

"If we get out of this one? That sounds like me talking. Where is your unflappable optimism my friend?" Illya groaned as he leaned back against a tree.

"I think I left it with my...my, aw never mind," Solo grimaced as a sharp pain shot through his body, keeping him from spinning a snappy comeback. He was starting to shiver.

Illya seeing his friend's discomfort, pulled Napoleon closer, letting the man rest against him, and removing his jacket; he placed it over Solo's body.

"Better?"

"Yes, but you'll get cold."

"Do not worry about me," Illya tried to hid his shivering." I am fine, you just rest...we both need to rest. Close your eyes and go to sleep. I will remain alert enough for both of us."

"Yeah right tovarisch," Napoleon coughed, with Illya holding him until his breathing settled.

Illya watched his partner closed his eyes as he quickly drifting to a much needed rest. Fighting off sleep himself, Kuryakin tried his best, but little by little exhaustion took him and he too dozed off.

Both men were startled awake by the sound of someone singing. It was a woman's voice strangely haunting, and frightening. It didn't sound like anything either man had heard before and it felt as if an eerie disembodied eye was watching them. At first voice was echoed off in the distance but as it came closer, so did the image of the person to whom it belonged.

Out of the darkness appeared a hooded figure walking in front of what looked like a gypsy caravan, and being pulled behind it was a smaller wagon containing three very different trees.

The lanterns hanging from the wagon swung methodically, a light within and smoke from a chimney would all have been a welcoming sight but for the fact this sizable wagon was not being pulled by a horse or any such beast of burden.

It looked like the wagon was magically following the cloaked figure as she were simply leading it.

The woman stopped, turning her unseen head and faced the two agents still seated on the ground.

"Do you hunger?" she asked, her face still remaining hidden.

"I have food, _come_ take your rest with me and mine. Come, come." A lithe pale hand beckoned to them.

The woman's voice was hypnotic, enticing and Illya understood what she'd said as she was speaking in Rom, the tongue of the European gypsies. It was from his maternal grandmother, Marina Kuryakina once known as Marina Ursari, that he got his Romany blood. She was the sister of his Uncle Vanya, a wise man who had taught him the gypsy way.

Napoleon on the other hand was hearing English, and the same hypnotic, enticement his partner was experiencing. He found the woman seductive, her voice calling him to her, yet her face and body remained hidden beneath her hooded cloak.

The sounds of wild gypsy music and voices filled the air, and both men found themselves drawn into its spell. Hands touched them, lips kissed theirs and they were made love to in a frenzy amidst the darkness of the forest surrounded by swirls of color and a myriad of voices.

A dark and unintelligible spell was being woven around them by an all seeing eye…

When Illya and Napoleon awoke, everything was gone, there was no woman or wagon.

"I had the most bizarre dream," Solo whispered. He sat up, no longer feeling any pain, but instead felt a sort of afterglow...the kind you have after really good sex.

"There was this incredible woman...women, and a wagon."

Kuryakin's eyes widened in surprise. "I had such a dream as well. There was music and singing, and yes a beautiful woman who made love to me. I do not remember her face though," he chuckled for a second. "We must have been very tired. Yet how could we have had such similar dreams?"

"Are you so sure it was a dream? Look." Napoleon pointed at three small odd looking trees that had been newly planted in the middle of the clearing. "Those weren't here before, but I distinctly recall seeing them in my dream."

"And they are not the usual spruce that grow in the taiga." Kuryakin added. He stood, stretching out, surprised he felt so invigorated and without any sign pain. He offered Solo a helping hand.

"I don't know what happened to us tovarisch, but whatever it was, let's just look upon it as a blessing. I feel great."

"Blessing or gypsy magic?" Illya said as he and his partner moved through the forest.

"Maybe it was just the Solo luck?" Napoleon grinned.

There was a sudden flash of light above them, immediately followed by the loud boom of a thunder clap. The sky opened up into a torrential downpour.

"You were saying something about the Solo Luck?"

Napoleon canted his head to one side, whistling as he tried blowing off the rain dripping down from his nose.

The two men turned to each other when in the distance they could hear the faint sound of gypsy music.

"I honestly say I don't want to go through that again partner," Napoleon whispered. He turned to see Illya walking in the opposite direction to the sound. "Hmm, guess you don't want to either?"

"Less talk Napoleon and walk faster..."


End file.
